Gloom or Doom?
by She-Ninja
Summary: Gloom weeds, Doom weeds…what is the difference? But of course, you can make an adventure out of anything. Adventure, humor, maybe some romance.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Blizzard coolness. Although, I don't think anyone personally owns zombies, but I suppose blizzard has the whole Forsaken idea._

_This randomly came to me, I sat down, and wrote a whole 9 pages. 4,127 words._

_Gloom weeds, Doom weeds…what is the difference? But of course, you can make an adventure out of anything. Adventure, humor, maybe some romance. Action!_

\----

Bony claws gripped the bright blue cloth tightly, lifting the bottom hem of her dress from the ground. Her exposed feet stepped carefully forward, the rotten skin covering parts of her body a pale blue, as if all blood was drained. Her expression was that of a scowl; she scoffed and huffed. Her short black hair was sleek in a part in the front, spiky in the back. She was voice of most mutilations known to the Forsaken, her skin nearly flawless. She was most likely a pretty one before her awakening, and thus death. The mace that swung slightly at her hip looked well used, her gloves scuffed and looking worse for wear.

"Stupid mud...stupid dress…" She muttered, and moved past the obstacle that gave her more trouble than the cursed hounds she had to beat to get here. Her dress settled around her again, and her gaze roved around the cemetery for the Apothecary that was supposedly wandering around. With a light sigh, she moved past a few tombstones, steps light.

She rounded a corner, and found herself at a well. It was long since dried, and many vines and plants littered the once regal masonry. She brushed away dirt at the rim, and took a seat, settling the dress around her with a glare down at the fabric.

Oh, how she wished she was not in the Order. All of the good Priests, healing and buffing and…oh, she despised it. Why, she wondered often, was she not awoken a warrior or a rogue? For fighting was where her heart was, or whatever was left of the organ. Useless, really, when there are such curses you can use to make due without such messiness.

But priest she was. Or, priestess. She shuffled her feet, forgetting about her hunt for the Apothecary. She wished to inflict pain to those who would kill her. Oh yes, glorious pain, the likes of which she herself had gone through in death, then awakening, then every bloody battle when her foot or something was accidentally lopped off. Putting limbs back on was such a hassle. Her trainers always scolded that she used the mace too much, and attempted to get her to weave the ways of Holy magic, or use a staff to push them away.

Push them away? Why should she, when they so willingly cut her first? Her mace did a fine job at cracking skulls, thank you very much, and she would rather use a Shadow Word before calling on such nonsensical _Holy _magic.

The sound of footsteps made her look up, and her eyes caught sight of the Apothecary trudging towards the well, mumbling and meddling with the flasks in his hands.

"Apothecary Holland?" She asked, and he snapped his gaze to her.

"I presume I still am he. What do you want, priest, I am busy. If only that fool would get back with those herbs…" He trailed off, once more talking to himself under his breath.

"Gordo asked me to bring these to you." She pulled the bundled weeds from her swaths of clothes, and held them out to the Apothecary.

He stared at them, seemingly shocked, for a time, until she mentioned it.

"What in the blight are those?!" He shrieked, and she recoiled, shocked. He waved his arms, spraying some of the viscous liquid from his flasks. The pink liquid sizzled on the ground, and the green one made the plants wither away.

"Gordo sent you?" He stormed to the well, setting his potions on the rim before turning to her. She slowly lowered her hand, nodding.

"Yes. He said you needed Gloom Weeds…"

The man smacked himself on the face, dragging his clawed hand slowly over his features before glaring at her. When she merely looked at him, he stormed away a few steps to rant.

"That complete imbecile…_why _do I keep that lumbering hulk of flash around!? The useless…incompetent…"

"Do you not need anything then?" She asked, and he nearly blew an artery. If he had one, that is.

"Need anything!? I've been waiting three days for the weeds I need!! But that idiot must be mutilating everything, and getting saps like you to pick them for him…Bah!" He shuffled his robes, calming.

"However, since you are here, and obviously willing to do a favor for an abomination, I will ask you to remedy the situation."

Sighing, she flung the useless weeds into the grasses and settled her hands on her hips.

"What do you need? Silver leaf from under the trees? A potion for better strength? A healing? Oh, maybe some Peacebloom, from under a rainbow!" She scowled at him. "Just because I'm a priest, you all instantly assume-!"  
"Everything alright over here?"

The two steaming undead turned towards the new one, who stood easily at the archway leading to the well. He had pale skin, a gaunt look, and mail armor that seemed to hardly weigh him down. His eyes were deep, and strangely optimistic for an undead. Teal spikes jutted from his skull in a mohawk. A well sharpened and kept axe hung at his side.

"Yes, Deathguard, the Priest and I were just discussing something." the Apothecary snapped, and turned to the still scowling priest.

"Alright. Just seemed odd that an old Alchemist and a holy Priest would be discussing at the top of their lungs…"

Her eyes snapped to him, and she growled. "Don't rub it in, _warrior."_

The man held up his hands, slightly confused. "Sorry, but Priests are normally-"

"I _know _what we _normally _are, thank you, and thus is why I think I should not have been one. Thanks so much for reminding me!" She whipped around and stabbed a finger at Apothecary Holland. "_What _was that damn important task you have for me! To remedy a situation I was not even in!"

Holland threw up his hands. "Not even in?! You were the one to bring me the wrong weed, woman! To remedy the situation, you must bring me the correct weed! It is vital to my studies!"

She crossed her arms, hissing. "Oh? And what weed would that be? Dark weed? Death weed? How many weeds grow here and you want me to go fetch a specific one for a _second _time-"

"Oh don't be such a pansy about getting your dress dirty-"

"_What _did you just say to me?!?"

The Deathguard shook his head, and leaned against the archway near the well to watch the fireworks.

"-so don't even _start_-"

"-girls are such little pansies-"

"-Dark lady help me I will-"

"-so incompetent you can't even-"

"-just go and get them and show you!" she shouted, and he simultaneously growled, "-prove it by bringing me Doom Weeds!"

And with a huff they both turned and faced away from each other, arms crossed and clearly pissed.

"Maybe I will then. I'll show you how to pick freakin weeds." She started to storm away, clearly intent on showing him up. "Men can't even pick a stupid flower…"

"I don't want to send you to some harm." He called, and she paused. "The gnolls that are scattered in those woods can be dangerous." His eyes slid to the Deathguard. "Why don't you take Deathguard Bartholomew with you, to ensure you're…healthy…return."

Bartholomew shrugged, hefting his axe and walking towards her. "If that what you want…"

"No, I don't need a warrior to do my fighting, if that what you are implying!" She shrieked, but the Apothecary had already walked away. "I don't want him coming!!"

"Too late." Bartholomew said, and smiled. "Once he sends you off to something, you better do it. He has quite the temper."

She looked at him, back at Hollands retreating form, hissed, "I noticed." and marched out of the northern gates.

----

They had been traveling for about ten minutes. Her scowl had softened, and Bartholomew attempted light conversation.

"So, what's your name?" He asked, and she glanced sideways at him.

"Meralianose." She replied, and he nearly tripped.

"Come again?"

She paused in walking and turned towards him. "Meralianose Hilitius Deptrous."

His blank stare irked her oddly.

"Meralianose. Mer...ali…anose. Meralianose."

"Ah..." He said, and they started moving again. "So…Alia? Lia? Mera? Nose?"

She held down a laugh at the last one. "Call me what you will, it does not matter to me."

"Alright then, Nose, how long have you been awake?"

"I take that back; any name besides Nose is fine with me."

They shared a laugh, and she stopped, bending down to pick a weed. "I think this is it…"

"Yea, that's the one." Bartholomew affirmed. She looked up at him. "Old Holland has been getting a lot of those from travelers."

"I see…" She straightened, and smiled at him. "And you are Bartholomew, correct?"

He nodded, settling his axe on his shoulder. "You can call me Bart."

"Or Mew." He blanched. "Oh, don't you like that name? Mew?" She danced ahead of him. "Oh, Mew, bid bad Mew! Come save me!"

"Nose, you change emotions too fast." He growled, and looked around. "That's such a sissy name too…"

Laughing, she dashed ahead and plucked another weed. "How about Arty then? Artho? Tholo!"

He chuckled, and watched her pick a peace bloom from the ground. Her skin glowed in the pale light that filtered through the trees. She truly was pretty, he had to admit. Even if her emotions went from angry to happy quickly.

She looked up at him, laughed, and called. "You know, I think the name Nose is growing on me. Does it show?" She turned sideways and pointed to her nose.

"Not really. But Mew just doesn't fit a warrior, don't you think?"

She stopped laughing, and he quickly followed suit.

"I suppose not."

He gulped, hoping she wouldn't go to super angry mode too quickly.

"Why don't you like warriors?" He asked, and she laughed.

"I like warriors just fine…but I would like them better if I was one…" She shrugged and crushed the peace bloom in her palm. "Priests…so weak…"

It took Bartholomew a few minutes to get her to lighten up, and by that time they had nearly enough weeds. The forest was dreary as always, yet quiet.

"You know Tholo, I don't know why Holland sent you with me. These woods are fairly empty."

He nodded without paying attention, eyeing something ahead. "I think there's another one. I'll go get it." And he strapped his axe to his side and retrieved the weed.

"Oh, I see some over there!" She called, and he didn't even look, but he heard her heading off to gather them.

With a few clumsy attempts, he managed to bundle the herb together and turned to show her.

"Look, Meral, I even bundled these!"

When he didn't hear a response, he glanced around. He was alone in the woods.

"Meral?" He stuffed the weed into his vest and pulled his axe. "Shoot…"

Her scream echoed through the trees, and he dashed towards the sound.

"Meral!"

----

She carefully brushed the grass from her dress, stashing the plant with the rest.

"That should be about enough." She looked back to where she though Tholo was, but didn't see him. How far had she wandered?

"Tholo?" She called, but he didn't answer. Miffed, she crossed her arms and waited, expecting him to come to her.

His friendliness on her was quite unusual. Not only were the undead an anti-social bunch to begin with, but not many people who are plagued, die, then are awoken have a very chipper outlook on life.

Yet he was nice, smiling and laughing with her as he did. His was good company…better than that old Hollands…

The rustling of bushes to her left drew her attention, and she turned. "There you are, I wondered where you were Tholo."

But he did not emerge.

Instead, she felt hot breath on the back of her neck. Slowly, she turned, and was face to face with a snarling, salivating gnoll, its mangy fur giving off a foul stench.

So Meral did what any person would do when surprised as such.

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

----

Tholo dodged trees and logs with ease, coming to a slight clearing where a gnoll was pressing a flailing blue mass into the dirt.

Rage boiled up within him, and he rushed the creature. "Beast!!"

The hyena like animal snorted and looked up, surprised as an axe came swiftly on its shoulder. Howling, it backed away slightly, and clutched the wound, giving Tholo time to inspect Meral.

"Meral! Are you alright?"

She rose, and the dress fell around her feet. Anger flamed in her eyes, and light swathed her fingers.

"You…tore…my…DRESS!!" She screamed, and flung her shirt and skimpy shorts clad self on the already wounded gnoll. Before she even reached it, the holy spell she was casting blasted him backwards, and she landed above him, bringing her cudgel down like a paladin on an undead.

"Die!" She shrieked, and blasted it with some shadowy attack.

The thing whined and scuffled away, and she followed, beating it over the head with her mace until Tholo leapt in front of it and cleaved its head from its shoulders.

She stood, shocked, as blood pooled around her feet, and glared up at Tholo.

"I wanted to do that." She growled, and he shrugged, hoping she wouldn't put some curse on him.

"Sorry, I was angry too." His eyes drifted down on her body, until he turned and collected her ruined dress. "So, I guess this was important?"

She took the cloth and bundled it in her hands. "Yes. They were my Priest robes. They were enchanted for Holy stuff, and they repelled dark thoughts…" She pouted for a minute. "Yes, my trainer will be most upset these are ruined. Perhaps he will lend me some thread to fix them though…"

Tholo nodded, and settled a hand on her shoulder. "I've had enough of gnolls. Let's get out of these woods."

She nodded, and looked up at him. "Were you really that worried?"

He made himself shrug, and turned away so she wouldn't see his teal colored blush.

----

Junior Apothecary Holland grinned when he was presented the Doom Weed he required, but made a face at her clothes.

"Those shorts look like they belong to a Night Elf stripper." He blatantly said, and Meral blushed extremely, pulling down the bottom of the shorts and glaring at him.

"It isn't my fault a gnoll happened to be feisty." She snapped and he shrugged.

"Still, it wouldn't do for a Priest to be indecent. Here, this will be for the trouble." He handed over a pouch heavy with coins. Meral took it wide eyed, and then up at Holland, who looked uncomfortable.

"Well, it wouldn't do for me to look like I don't appreciate the help. Besides, I like your attitude, so if you need something, I have friends in high places, or just some potions, you know…" She suddenly turned blue in the face, with rage and embarrassment at rambling, and shooed the two stunned younger undead. "Be gone!! I have important things to be doing!" And with a swish of his cloak, the old man strode off between tombstones.

As Meral slowly opened the back, Tholo looked over her shoulder. Coins sparkled up at the two, and Meral gasped.

"Well, that's more than I'll ever make in a day." He said, and whistled. "You're lucky you're an Adventuring Priest." Meral slowly closed the bag and tied it securely to her belt. "Us guards may get our station changed a few times, but we basically just wander around."

Meral nodded, mulling her thoughts over. "I suppose so…"

Tholo noted that she seemed slightly upset, and nudged her.

"Let's go back to the inn. Isn't that where the Priest trainer is?"

----

The oak stairs groaned under them as they ascended, and her hand slid along the rail slowly. They walked in silence, Meral deep in thought, Tholo trying to not look at her bottom that just so happened to be right in his face.

Cleric Baryl scowled when she showed him her robes, his eye twitching.

"Youngling, do you know how much effort is put into those robes!?" He scoffed and crossed his arms. "The threads I may lend you, but no healing shall be applied to any wounds you receive sewing. I know how hapless you are with the needle." He sneered as he caught sight of her clothes. "And that is inadequate clothing for one who follows the holy way. You must be descent, unspoiled, to be a true holy priest. You cannot be corrupt with love or lust, not can you corrupt others with such plagues." He turned and opened a large chest. Meral held down a gasp as it opened, revealing mounds of gold.

"Here." He said, and handed her several pieces. "This should be enough to tide you over." She thanked him graciously, and he dismissed her.

"We see much promise in you, Meralianose, much promise and power. My the holy light be with you always."

----

She met Tholo outside of the room, where he was leaning against the wall.

"How did you fare?" He asked, and she showed him the money.

"Good grief! D'you think you get paid enough to pick some weeds and rip a dress?"

Meral smiled half heartedly and shrugged. Tholo frowned.

"Well, I feel slightly hungry, which means a mortal would be starving. Let's go find something to eat, alright?"

With a full smile, she nodded. "O.K. But I'm buying!"

"Of course."

----

It began to drizzle that evening, and Tholo grimaced at the sky from under a merchants tarp. Clouds boiled overhead, promising doom.

Behind him, Meral purchased two loaves of bread, a sack of sweet nectar, and some ham. It was meager, but there wasn't much else to choose from. Suppliers didn't reach this far unless for a purpose.

She tapped the warrior on his armored shoulder and handed him his portion with a blush.

"They don't have much else, sorry."

"It's ok. Better than the gruel we get at the Barracks."

They quickly crossed the street and hid from the now downpour under a weeping willow, whose long branches held out the wind and rain.

Tholo pulled out a blanket, and they settled next to each other to eat.

"So I guess you are a more loose Deathguard?" She asked, and he nodded.

"In a sense. I basically wander the streets and make sure nobody starts any riff-raff. But there are several others besides me, and we all do what we wish. Not much trouble happens with the undead."

She nodded. "Why aren't you an adventurer? You always sound like you want to be one."

"Although I am good at what I do, I prefer to stick with what I know. Break up bar fights, settle an argument, beat down the occasional gnoll…" He shrugged. "When I started out, adventuring sounded like too hard of work, so I signed up for the Deathguards. They don't get many volunteers."

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the thunder peal and lightening scream.

"You said you are good at what you do?"

Tholo smiled and inclined his head.

"Top of my class."

Smiling in response, she watched his face. It was calm, serene, unlike many of the Forsaken's, who's faces were mangled into a permanent look of pain.

"How old were you when you died?"

"I think I was twenty something." He said, blinking. "Yes, something like that."

"How long have you been a Forsaken?"

At this, he chuckled lowly.

"Long enough to be experienced in many things, and young enough to remember life."

Meral shivered at his words, and looked out through the boughs of the tree.

He watched her, inspecting her face. "And you?" She turned to meet his gaze. "Why are you a priest?"

Sighing, she tucked a stray hair behind her ear and looked down at the food. "When I was awoken, the priest instantly called me to be one of theirs. I joined the order as soon as I stepped from the Crypt, they gave me my robes the next day, and sent me here, to Brill, on the third. They said I showed potential. I did excel under tests, but I tend to naturally go for brutal violence over magic."

"You are good." He said, "You have a natural look when you go through the moves. I saw it today. Smooth transaction."

She blushed, and he grinned. "And how old were you when you died?"

"Twenty two." Meral replied instantly. She looked away, as if seeing something else. "Twenty two and two weeks."

Tholo gulped, unsure, but continued. "And how long have you been a Forsaken?"

"Two weeks."

Tholo shut up completely.

Meral's eyes were bright, her skin soft and smooth. Her cheeks were high, her jaw strong, her nose proud, and her lips full and soft. Shoulders that were slumped slowly turned into bare bones, before her arms ended in the mangled claws that were trademark undead traits. Her chest was full and perfect, which made more sense with the knowledge of her age. The ribs that showed through the still healthy looking skin were white and barely yellowed. Her waist was small and smooth, tapering into shaped legs.

Her beauty, even in undeath, made more sense now, but the thought made him uncomfortable.

"Meral…"

"It's fine…" She replied, and tried to smile at him. His gaze, however, was still worried. "Really. You don't need to worry about me."

He touched her shoulder softly. "Is that why you were all thoughtful earlier? Were you thinking about being undead?"

She laughed lightly. "No, actually, I was thinking you should come with me on adventures."

He froze, thinking he heard her incorrectly.

"Me…?"

She blinked and grinned at him. "Yes. I think we would make a good team, don't you? A well seasoned warrior, with the help of a new priest." He still looked stunned, and she touched his arm. "You can help teach me about being undead. I'll buy your contract to being a Deathguard, and it will be a fair trade."

"Meral…I…"

Feeling uncertain, she fiddled with the bottom of her shirt. "Of course, if you don't want to…"

Tholo layed back on the grass, eyes wide and staring at the canopy of greenery above them. He knew that there was only a mere sheet of tree between him and the storm outside. He felt safe under it, knew what would come day in and out. It would keep him dry, and he merely had to be bored under its protection.

Did he want to leave the safety of that cover?

"You know…" He mused, and she looked at him. "I signed up to be a Deathguard because I felt like I would be safe in the army. But now that it comes to it, I wouldn't mind being put into danger, not if it meant I would actually be having fun."

Sitting up, he held out his hand, and grinned. Meral smiled and took it.

"Okay Meral. It's a deal. You buy my contract, I'll help you out whenever you need it."

Meral light up like a fire, before leaning over and hugging him. He paused, having never been hugged as an undead, before returning the gesture. It felt surprisingly good.

They rented a room at the inn, and tomorrow they decided they would get started on buying his contract and adventuring. Tired from their adventure in one day, and discussing their lives until the wee hours of the knight, Meral fell asleep next to Tholo on his bed, smiling and hugging him. As he flicked the light off, he murmured into her hair as quiet as possible,

"Adventuring with you is what I would do over any boring task, Meralianose. You intrigue me in so many ways…"

And he drifted off as well, stroking her shoulder and murmuring nothings into her ear.

---/

_Well, I totally pulled this out of thin air. I don't think there was any plot, other than pick weeds and get your dress ripped. And the relationship was volatile and tended to be hastened… Oh well, I had fun, and this attracted a lovely little plot bunny to come hopping over._

_So expect more about Meral and Tholo, along with some help from that guy Holland, and maybe more._

_Reviews are appreciated!! Thank you for reading!_

_(please not that I wrote this in a matter of a few hours, and if there are mistakes I didn't catch, I apologize.)_


End file.
